Swamp City Mustash Competition
by iamQuoz
Summary: Swamp City apparently has an annual fair; with stall upon stall of fair snack foods- pistachios being amongst those. So of course they'd get sent there.


Swamp City Mustache Competition

(So this fic has some _mild_ -established relationship- slash with Balthazar Cavendish and Vinnie Dakota. **Fair warning**.)

Swamp City apparently has an annual fair; with stall upon stall of fair snack foods- pistachios being amongst those.

So of course they'd get sent there.

They had signed the admission book as; Bartholomew Cartwright and Vincent Dallas, their forged identities for the time period.

Even though they were only at the fair to protect a large pistachio stand, Cavendish entered a mustache contest on a whim.

He might as well, since they were here anyway.

There were several categories:

1\. Longest

2\. Most Distinguished

3\. Most Elaborately Styled

4\. Best Groomed

5\. Best Handle-bar

6\. Most Lovable

Cavendish didn't even hope to win the 'Longest' category, his was a well trimmed mustache.

As for the other categories, he felt he had at least some footing.

 _—although heaven only knew what 'Most Lovable' entailed—_

"Hey," Dakota said with a wide smile, "I'd be awesome if you won an award, I wonder if there are any prizes."

Cavendish shrugged, "I mostly entered on a whim, it doesn't really matter whether or not I win anything."

Dakota elbowed Cavendish teasingly, "Oh, come on, you've got a decent shot."

"I'd prefer to be pessimistic. Because then I'm either right, or pleasantly surprised."

Dakota laughed, "Okay Cav, I'll be sure to cheer extra loudly when you win."

Cavendish rolled his eyes, "Let's just find and secure the pistachio stand, once we complete the mission— we can wonder about the competition then."

—-

"All competitors for the mustache competition please kindly go to assigned marks," the announcer called out over the tinny loud speaker, "Please make sure your number is readily available for the judges for when they pass by."

Balthazar Cavendish stood with his back straight and his shoulders squared; posture immaculate as always.

At his full height of 6'7", not to mention the hat, he towered over many of the other contestants.

He would have almost looked stern, had it not been for a small smile aimed just for Dakota on his face.

Dakota smiled back from the observing crowd, offering up a encouraging thumbs up.

The judges milled around the competition area, marking down notes on their clipboards and measuring the mustaches of those who had entered the 'Longest Mustache' category.

One judge lingered a bit in his peripheral vision, writing some sort of an elaborate note— the purpose of which, was beyond Cavendish's best reckoning.

Cavendish didn't pay the judge much mind though, he only had eyes for Dakota.

Dakota had taken of his sunglasses, only briefly, to better showcase a wink aimed right for Cavendish.

Dakota almost never took off those shades, let alone in public. He was self conscious about his heterochromia.

He had been teased many times in his youth about his differently colored eyes, and thus almost always chose to wear tinted glasses.

His left eye was a stunning sky blue, much like Cavendish's own eyes; while the right eye was a chocolate brown, to match his hair.

Cavendish absolutely loved Dakotas' eyes, and he hoped one day that he'd not feel that he had to guard against people seeing them.

So enraptured was Cavendish, that his smile warmed and his posture unconsciously softened a tad.

Before he even realized it, the judges had all made their way back to the stage, and were fervently comparing their scores and notes.

Categories one through five went to very deserving competitors, who had probably purposely groomed their mustaches for the competition.

"And now, for the category of 'Most Lovable', drumroll please," the announcer paused for the said drumroll, "Bartholomew Cartwright!"

For a moment Cavendish had forgotten that was the name he had entered under.

Dakota however, hadn't, "Yeah! You won, B!"

Dakota calling out with his affectionate use of his first initial, finally jarred him into walking onto the stage and accepting his prize.

The trophy's little gold placard read; 'Most Lovable' with a picture of a mustache emblazoned underneath. The main trophy was a shiny little gold cup with small handles on the side.

The contestants were encouraged to leave the stage 'and take photos with fair goers', so Cavendish descended from the stage and headed straight for Dakota.

Dakota was grinning ear to ear.

Cavendish silently handed the small trophy to Dakota and placed a small kiss on his forehead.

"Not that I'm complaining," Dakota said blushing, "but are you giving the trophy to me? I don't know if you've noticed- but I don't exactly have a mustache."

Cavendish smiled shyly, "I wouldn't have won it without your antics to make me relax, I would have been far too stiff if I'd been left to my own devices."

Cavendish scratched at the back of his head, "Plus, you'll notice, the trophy reads 'Most Lovable', and I can't think of anyone more lovable than you."

"Awe, B..." Dakota's eyes glistened with tears, "You flatterer."

Cavendish shrugged, "It's not flattery if it's true." Dakota laughed, and then smacked his chest playfully in a sort of retaliation.

Dakota was still chuckling when he said, "Lets get out of here, I've got to put my trophy in a place of honor."

Cavendish crooked his elbow for Dakota to loop his arm through, "Yes, shall we go V?"

Dakota linked his arm into Cavendish's, "Yes, B, we shall."

-The End-


End file.
